Night Air
by bamboojunkie
Summary: Episode tag for 1x04 "Magic Bullet"


He's tired as they leave the hospice where his uncle is now a permanent resident. The monkshood took more out of him than he cared to admit, but it was important that Scott learn this lesson about the hunters. Scott's getting too close to the girl, getting too attached, and Derek doesn't trust him not to make mistakes. Better that he see and learn exactly what they are capable of tonight, before its too late.

Still, that doesn't change the fact that Derek is tired; that his body is worn and sore from keeping him alive for the past day, that he still feels nauseous and sick, that his head is pounding, and that he wants nothing more than close his burning eyes. He's glad then, that he's not the only one surprised to see Stiles's jeep waiting around for them.

"What are you still doing here?" Scott asks. Although why Scott feels the need to ask, Derek isn't sure. Stiles has shown himself time and again to be the kind of person that throws himself into the middle of things. Derek may not know much about Stiles, but he knows this much. Accompanying two werewolves on a mission to a nursing home is exactly his thing.

"I believe I'm the only one here with a car," Stiles scoffs casually.

"I came on my bike," Scott replies

"That's great for you, Scott," says Stiles. "But I drove at least one of you here. And around all day I might add. Let it not be said that a Stilinski cuts and runs. Well, maybe runs. But only under extreme circumstances, typically with the imminent danger," Stiles trails off, and Derek realizes they are looking at him expectantly. He doesn't really need a ride back to the Hale house, there ways for a werewolf to get around, but he's tired and he knows the journey there would be frustrating at best. At least that's what he tells himself as he wordlessly walks over to the passenger side of the Jeep and gets in. He watches as Scott and Stiles share an unreadable look before Scott grabs his bike and Stiles slips into the driver's seat. Derek is fairly certain he's being rude to Stiles; silence and a lack of gratitude to someone doing you a favour don't seem to be the most people way to act. But he's not most people and it's been a long time since he's had to care about being rude. Besides, at this point in the evening, he doesn't care much about anything at all. He lets his eyes close as Stiles turns the engine over and pulls out of the lot.

They've been on the road for only a few minutes when Stiles awkwardly speaks: "So, how're you feeling?" Derek picks out the subtle tremor in his voice and it takes him a moment to place it. Concern. Derek's not sure what to do with this, it's been a while since anyone has been concerned for him and he's got too many walls in place to respond in any normal fashion. But still. Derek feels like he has to say something. After all, Stiles stuck with him through through the worst of the aconite poisoning and was ready to saw off Derek's arm if that's what needed to be done. He's smart and reliable, and Derek knows he would have been fucked without him today. So, he bites back the retort that immediately rises, and does his best to kill the defence mechanism that would push Stiles away. The kid's just trying to help, after all.

"I'm fine," he says. Derek knows this isn't true, and he's pretty sure Stiles knows it, too. But it's the best he can offer at this point, and it's better than a offer to rip out Stiles's throat. He's not sure if Stiles gets that or not, or if Stiles is going to spend the rest of the drive chattering. Derek's pretty sure the pounding in his head is not going to deal well with that. He keeps his eyes shut in an effort to encourage silence and is surprised when it works. He's even more surprised when the car stops just a few seconds later. He's about to give Stiles shit and demand to know what they've stopped for, but when he opens his eyes, he finds they're in his driveway, the Hale house looming dark and skeletal in front of them. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but he must have. He looks over and sees Stiles looking at him with a queer look. For some reason he's unnerved by that look, unnerved that he'd actually fallen asleep in the Jeep, and in a second overcome by an impulse to be home. But not the home he has now, in the burned out Hale house before him. Actually and truly _home_, in the way the Hale house used to be so many years ago.

Derek shakes the thoughts from him and opens the door to the Jeep. As he moves he hears Stiles exit the other side. By the time he's out, Stiles has made his way around the Jeep and stands nearby. Stiles isn't stupid, he doesn't try to force himself in where he might not be wanted, but he does make it clear that he's available should Derek request help. Derek shuts the Jeep's door heavily and leans against it as he looks at Stiles. There's an awkward silence between them as Derek remembers that while the kid may have been a bit mouthy (okay, really mouthy) during their… ordeal, he hadn't just abandoned Derek like he could have. And if push came to shove, Derek is fairly certain Stiles would have sawed off his arm to save his life. Macabre as the thought is, it's nice to know that at least someone trusts him enough to do what he asks.

The silence between them stretches thin and brittle and even though his head is pounding, his eyes are burning, and he aches all over, he somehow can't just dismiss Stiles, can't bring himself to tell the kid to get lost while he licks his wounds in private. He can't quite bring this _something_ to an end between them. It's been a long time since he trusted anyone, can barely remember what it's like anymore, but he feels like asking someone to cut off your arm and knowing that they've got the strength to do it is somewhere at least close to trust along the broad spectrum of human emotion. He doesn't trust people, but he had to tonight, and now it's harder than he anticipated to return to not-trusting.

In this moment, as in all the others, Derek is never quite sure what to make of Stiles. Derek is responsible for Scott. Scott is misguided, selfish, and downright reckless. But Stiles he should have no real interest in. He's just a human. Except that he's right there in the thick of it every single time, despite his frail human body, and is always an unlikely ally in trying to reign in Scott and clean up after his various disasters. Stiles is sometimes the only reason Derek doesn't feel like he's talking to a brick wall, and that for whatever reason, Stiles gets what the consequences of Scott's actions might be.

"You sure you're okay?" Stiles asks, and Derek nearly jumps. Stiles doesn't even bother to hide his concern this time.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Derek says as he pushes himself off of the Jeep and forces himself to take a few, slow, steady steps towards the house. But then he stops and turns around, and looks at Stiles, who is still watching him, concern etched on his face. Derek offers the best he can in that moment. "Listen. Thanks for the ride. And for tonight. You didn't need to, uh. Anyway. Thanks."

"No problem, man. Anytime. But you know, hopefully not another time since I'd really rather not cut off your arm. Ever," Stiles rambles and Derek can't help but role his eyes. "Seriously though, dude? I'm glad you're not dead," Stiles brings his ramble to a close, sincerity in his voice. Derek nods quickly before turning on his heel and making his way back to the house.

He doesn't need Stiles to be concerned for him, but as he falls asleep he remembers what it was once like to be cared about and for. He doesn't need it, but as he drifts off he can't help but miss it.


End file.
